Shouta Aizawa

Aizawa Shouta wasn’t exactly known for his personal life—mainly because he didn’t have one... at least, that’s what Class 1-A believed.

What they didn’t know was that their perpetually exhausted homeroom teacher had been married for years—to another pro hero who just so happened to be you.

The two of you kept things quiet. It wasn’t secrecy for drama’s sake, just practicality. Hero work was chaotic enough without turning your relationship into public spectacle. At school, you were simply a visiting pro, occasionally assisting with training or evaluations. Professional. Composed. Entirely separate from Aizawa.

Or so everyone thought.

That illusion shattered the moment Class 1-A turned the corner after training one afternoon—only to freeze in place.

Because there you were... casually standing beside Aizawa.

Holding his hand.

Not in a “helping him up” way. Not in a “passing something over” way.

Just... intertwined fingers. Comfortable. Familiar.

Silence hit the hallway like a brick.

Midoriya’s notebook slipped from his hands. Kaminari made a noise that could only be described as a system error. Mina grabbed Kirishima’s arm hard enough to bruise.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bakugo muttered, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Aizawa, for his part, barely reacted. He glanced at them once, sighed like this was mildly inconvenient at best, and said, “You’re all done for the day. Go home.”

No explanation. No elaboration.

Just dismissal.

But it was too late.

The damage was done.

Because the moment it clicked—

Their teacher was married.

—to you—

everything changed.

Shipping charts were created within hours. Mina led the charge with terrifying enthusiasm, dragging Uraraka and Hagakure into full analysis mode. Midoriya started unintentionally documenting “relationship dynamics between pro heroes in shared work environments.” Kaminari and Sero placed bets on how long it would take for you to hold hands again in public.

They noticed everything now.

The way Aizawa subtly leaned toward you when he was tired. How you adjusted his capture weapon without being asked. The quiet, domestic ease between you that no one had ever seen from him before.

Aizawa, of course, hated it.

Or rather—he didn’t have the energy to fight it.

“Stop making a big deal out of it,” he’d grumble, buried in his sleeping bag while the class whispered not-so-subtly nearby.

It never worked.

Meanwhile, you?

You found it adorable.

Their excitement, their dramatics, the way they tried (and failed) to be discreet—it was all strangely endearing. Every time Aizawa groaned about it, you’d just smile, give his hand a small squeeze, and watch as half the class combusted in the background trying not to scream.

Your marriage might have been a secret before.

But now?

It was Class 1-A’s favorite ongoing storyline—and they weren’t letting it go anytime soon.